The subject of this sketch is, perhaps, the most original and
variously gifted designer the world has ever known. At an age
when most men have scarcely passed their novitiate in art, and
are still under the direction and discipline of their masters and
the schools, he had won a brilliant reputation, and readers and
scholars everywhere were gazing on his work with ever-increasing
wonder and delight at his fine fancy and multifarious gifts. He
has raised illustrative art to a dignity and importance before
unknown, and has developed capacities for the pencil before
unsuspected. He has laid all subjects tribute to his genius,
explored and embellished fields hitherto lying waste, and opened
new and shining paths and vistas where none before had trod. To
the works of the great he has added the lustre of his genius,
bringing their beauties into clearer view and warming them to a
fuller life.
His delineations of character, in the different phases of
life, from the horrible to the grotesque, the grand to the comic,
attest the versatility of his powers; and, whatever faults may be
found by critics, the public will heartily render their quota of
admiration to his magic touch, his rich and facile rendering of
almost every thought that stirs, or lies yet dormant, in the
human heart. It is useless to attempt a sketch of his various
beauties; those who would know them best must seek them in the
treasure—house that his genius is constantly augmenting with
fresh gems and wealth. To one, however, of his most prominent
traits we will refer—his wonderful rendering of the powers of
Nature.
His early wanderings in the wild and romantic passes of the
Vosges doubtless developed this inherent tendency of his mind.
There he wandered, and there, mayhap, imbibed that deep delight
of wood and valley, mountain—pass and rich ravine, whose variety
of form and detail seems endless to the enchanted eye. He has
caught the very spell of the wilderness; she has laid her hand
upon him, and he has gone forth with her blessing. So bold and
truthful and minute are his countless representations of forest
scenery; so delicate the tracery of branch and stem; so
patriarchal the giant boles of his woodland monarchs, that the'
gazer is at once satisfied and entranced. His vistas lie
slumbering with repose either in shadowy glade or fell ravine,
either with glint of lake or the glad, long course of some
rejoicing stream, and above all, supreme in a beauty all its own,
he spreads a canopy of peerless sky, or a wilderness, perhaps, of
angry storm, or peaceful stretches of soft, fleecy cloud, or
heavens serene and fair—another kingdom to his teeming art,
after the earth has rendered all her gifts.
Paul Gustave Dore was born in the city of Strasburg, January
10, 1833. Of his boyhood we have no very particular account. At
eleven years of age, however, he essayed his first artistic
creation—a set' of lithographs, published in his native city.
The following year found him in Paris, entered as a 7. student at
the Charlemagne Lyceum. His first actual work began in 1848, when
his fine series of sketches, the "Labors of Hercules," was given
to the public through the medium of an illustrated, journal with
which he was for a long time connected as designer. In 1856 were
published the illustrations for Balzac's "Contes Drolatiques" and
those for "The Wandering Jew "—the first humorous and grotesque
in the highest degree—indeed, showing a perfect abandonment to
fancy; the other weird and supernatural, with fierce battles,
shipwrecks, turbulent mobs, and nature in her most forbidding and
terrible aspects. Every incident or suggestion that could
possibly make the story more effective, or add to the horror of
the scenes was seized upon and portrayed with wonderful power.
These at once gave the young designer a great reputation, which
was still more enhanced by his subsequent works.
With all his love for nature and his power of interpreting her
in her varying moods, Dore was a dreamer, and many of his finest
achievements were in the realm of the imagination. But he was at
home in the actual world also, as witness his designs for
"Atala," "London—a Pilgrimage," and many of the scenes in "Don
Quixote."
When account is taken of the variety of his designs, and the
fact considered that in almost every task he attempted none had
ventured before him, the amount of work he accomplished is fairly
incredible. To enumerate the immense tasks he undertook—some
single volumes alone containing hundreds of illustrations—will
give some faint idea of his industry. Besides those already
mentioned are Montaigne, Dante, the Bible, Milton, Rabelais,
Tennyson's "Idyls of the King," "The Ancient Mariner,
Shakespeare, "Legende de Croquemitaine," La Fontaine's "Fables,"
and others still.
Take one of these works—the Dante, La Fontaine, or "Don
Quixote"—and glance at the pictures. The mere hand labor
involved in their production is surprising; but when the quality
of the work is properly estimated, what he accomplished seems
prodigious. No particular mention need be made of him as painter
or sculptor, for his reputation rests solely upon his work as an
illustrator.
Dore's nature was exuberant and buoyant, and he was youthful
in appearance. He had a passion for music, possessed rare skill
as a violinist, and it is assumed that, had he failed to succeed
with his pencil, he could have won a brilliant reputation as a
musician.
He was a bachelor, and lived a quiet, retired life with his
mother—married, as he expressed it, to her and his art. His
death occurred on January 23, 1883.